League of Crack
by KuzAnn
Summary: Where the crazy fics go! This is the repository for all the zany, cracky fics Viper of Grand and I come up with. We guarantee a lot of weirdness and hopefully a few laughs. The latest is about Syndra and Graves.
1. Nobody Touches the Hat(by KuzAnn)

**Nobody Touches the Hat**

Twisted Fate dashed across the hard-packed earth that made up the central lane of Summoner's Rift. The skirmish had gone badly, he was injured and out of every last bit of magic he could muster. Most of the other team were dead or badly injured as well, though the distinct lack of Teemo—who had been wandering around the topmost lane when the fighting broke out—kept it from being entirely fair.

Thresh let out a loud cackle as he followed Twisted Fate. The Card Master was hurt enough that he would be able to finish him off easily if he could snag him with his chain, despite his being weaker in a standup fight since he was _supposed_ to be a "support" champion. He grumbled to himself about "dirty summoner lawyers" and "that damn contract" as he lifted his arm, scythe and chain in hand.

It would have been a perfect shot, had Teemo not suddenly appeared from a nearby bush and shot a cloud of blinding poison in his face. Better late than never, as Teemo would say to his teammates when they scolded him later. It was mostly his summoner's fault for not paying attention anyway.

The Chain Warden howled in anger as he clawed at his face with his free hand. He didn't even know _why_ this stuff was able to blind an undead like himself, what did the little rat even _use_ in it? He threw his chain anyway, at least he would take Twisted Fate down with him!

The chain flew forward, but it didn't hit Twisted Fate himself; it was too high for that. It latched into the gypsy's trademark hat as he ran out of Thresh's range.

"You damn hamster!" Thresh howled as he caught the hat and wrenched it off the end of his scythe.

Teemo, however, was quivering in terror as he looked at the hat in Thresh's hands. "Take cover!" the Swift Scout dove into a nearby bush like his life depended on it and disappeared.

Thresh was mystified. Teemo would've killed him if he'd stayed, why leave now? Because of Twisted Fate? That couldn't be right. Sure the gypsy rogue was handy with his cards, but he was a complete pansy if you caught him. Thresh shrugged and tossed the hat into a nearby bush.

The Chain Warden was about to turn back when a loud, angry roar echoed through the Rift.

Every champion—save for Thresh, who hadn't the faintest clue as to what it was and didn't care anyway—immediately stopped what they were doing and cast a fearful glance down the middle lane.

Karthus, who had just started back toward the middle of the Rift, stepped back onto the Fountain platform and took a seat. "Someone knocked his hat off again, didn't they?" he scowled, obviously not amused by this new development.

Hecarim soon appeared at the topmost entrance to their base, hurtling past the Nexus at full tilt as if Hell and five whole legions of unholy demons were on his heels. He slowed only once he reached the Fountain, and galloped in a circle to bleed off speed without falling flat on his face in the process. "Do you see him?" the Shadow of War danced a nervous jig, like a horse startled by the sound of a large predator. "I came back as soon as I heard," his hands tightened on the pole of his glaive with an audible creak.

"No, not yet," Karthus grumbled.

Mordekaiser appeared behind them, having finally been resurrected. "So who was stupid enough to take his hat?" he growled.

"Mordekaiser, save me!" Hecarim grabbed the Master of Metal, lifted him off the ground, and held him in front of himself like an angry, flailing shield.

"Put me down, you fool! Have some dignity, for Shadow's sake!"

"But he knocked down a mountain the last time it happened!" Hecarim whined, though he put Mordekaiser down regardless.

"Well you shouldn't have run away," Mordekaiser snapped as he shrugged his shoulders to settle his armor back into place. "At least it taught you not to wave that stupid glaive of yours around so carelessly," he swung his mighty mace up and allowed it to land on his right shoulder, nearly crushing Hecarim's head in the process.

"Both of you shut up," Karthus silenced the two with a glare. "I'm trying to hear where he is."

The Rift was completely silent. The silence was always worse than the screams, it meant you didn't know where the predator was, and that it was too focused on hunting out prey to be bothered with making noise. As the undead listened and watched, the familiar sound of scraping chains could be heard echoing across the base's stone-paved expanse.

"By the by," Urgot materialized behind the group as he too was resurrected. "Thresh did it."

This confirmation was met with a group moan, followed by a whimper from Hecarim. Thresh's crap aim was about to get them all violently murdered, possibly several times over depending on how long it took to actually _find_ Twisted Fate's hat, which Thresh had no doubt lost since he didn't know how important it was.

Hecarim considered trying to use Urgot as a meat shield next, then decided against it. Urgot was just too gross, even for one of his fellow undead.

"Hey, newbie!" Mordekaiser called as Thresh passed their middle Inhibitor. "What did you do with the hat?"

"Hat?" Thresh paused for a few moments, looking as confused as possible given his skull-like face. "Oh, that. I threw it away."

"We are so dead!" Hecarim cowered behind the three other champions and tried to make himself as small as possible. "_So dead!_"

"What are you _talking_ about?" Thresh snapped, suddenly aware of the loud thundering of fast-approaching footsteps that pounded the beaten dirt behind him. He turned just in time to see Twisted Fate hurtling toward him from the other end of the Rift's middle lane.

The unearthly howl that Twisted Fate voiced as he charged toward Thresh was enough to chill the undead's ectoplasm to near absolute zero. Save for the distinct lack of hat, the only thing off about Twisted Fate was the fact that only the whites of his eyes were showing. As well as the expression of livid fury and incredible speeds he was moving at. The Inhibitor turret shot at the Card Master once before it was leveled in a single blow by one of the gypsy's bare fists.

"What the fu—" Thresh's exclamation was cut off by one of Twisted Fate's fists slamming into the middle of his face. The impact was strong enough to throw Thresh toward his Nexus, chains trailing behind him.

Twisted Fate grabbed the two chains as Thresh flew backward; just punching him in the face wouldn't be enough even for _touching_ his precious hat, let alone _losing_ it. Thresh slammed into the right-hand Nexus turret with enough force to break it to pieces, which then fell on top of him in an uncomfortable, bone-crushing heap. He was just considering how effective playing dead might be when the chains yanked him back out of the rubble. It was then that he realized the beating probably wouldn't stop until he had been reduced to a completely-dead mass of quivering ectoplasm.

As Thresh soared into swinging range, Twisted Fate landed a direct hit on exactly the same portion of the phantom's face that he'd hit before. This sent him hurtling into the remaining Nexus turret, which also buried him in a large heap of rubble as it collapsed.

"Somebody... Help... Me..." Thresh gazed forlornly at the champions on the Fountain and raised his arm in a pitiful begging gesture as the chains pulled him back toward Twisted Fate yet again.

The Nexus was much tougher than its turrets had been. And much tougher than Thresh. Twisted Fate continued to pummel him like a morbid yo-yo while the other champions looked on in horror.

Back down the middle lane, Teemo was still hiding in his bush. He'd watched as Twisted Fate hurtled past to get at Thresh, and he could now hear the Chain Warden screaming as the Card Master pulverized him. The yordle relaxed slightly and glanced around. There was Twisted Fate's hat, caught on some tall grass just a few feet away. If he could sneak up and get it onto the Card Master's head before the entire Rift was leveled, he would surely be hailed as a hero by everyone involved.

Teemo grinned, grabbed the hat, and ran straight for the enemy base. By the time Teemo arrived, Thresh had been reduced to green ectoplasmic paste that was now smeared all over the frontmost side of his Nexus. Twisted Fate was currently chasing Hecarim around the base, demolishing any and all structures that the Shadow of War tried to hide behind. Urgot had taken the opportunity to scurry into the forest and away from the destruction.

"You _fool_!" Mordekaiser bellowed from his perch atop the Fountain's megaturret as he shook his mace at the scene below. "Stop making him destroy our base!"

Karthus still sat on the Fountain platform, still as a statue in an attempt to make Twisted Fate mistake him for a piece of scenery. It had worked thus far, but he worried that Hecarim might try hiding behind _him_ next, in which case his efforts would be utterly pointless.

"I'm sorry, he's making me panic!" Hecarim darted behind another Inhibitor.

"Be a brave war pony and lead him out of here if you want to flee so much!"

"Nooooo, get back! I didn't take it this time, I swear!" Hecarim screamed as he galloped away from Twisted Fate, who had just crushed the Inhibitor he was hiding behind with his fists. "Please don't violently destroy me!"

"Fool! He's too far-gone to reason with now!"

Sure enough, the Card Master ignored Hecarim's pleas and kept chasing him. His focus was intense enough that Teemo would be able to pop behind him and put the hat back on without getting in the line of fire. He sprinted after Twisted Fate and caught up just as the Card Master cornered Hecarim—who had again curled up into a fearful, whimpering ball—and prepared to beat the everloving snot out of him. The Swift Scout leapt forward as Twisted Fate drew back his fist for the first painful blow.

It was like flipping a switch. As soon as the hat touched Twisted Fate's head, he slumped to his knees and fell silent. Teemo landed beside him, head held high in his triumph.

Now that Twisted Fate was no longer acting like a rage-filled berserker demon, the announcer felt it was safe to finally speak up. "**MATCH CANCELLED DUE TO RULE VIOLATION. ALL CHAMPIONS, PREPARE TO BE REMOVED FROM SUMMONER'S RIFT AT ONCE.**"

Hecarim looked up to see Twisted Fate sitting quietly before him. "I'm never gonna pay you back for this, but thanks anyway!" he dashed off in the direction of his Fountain, just to be on the safe side.

After a few moments of silence, Twisted Fate's head snapped up and he looked around in surprise. "Gah I blacked out for a second there, what happened?" he paled and lowered his head so that his hat kept his eyes from view when he saw that the enemy base was in ruins. "Ah... Someone took my hat again, didn't they?"

"Afraid so," Teemo folded his arms over his chest with a grave nod. "Thresh got it when he was trying to kill you."

"Please tell me I didn't break anything big this time..."

Teemo threw a glance behind him at the Nexus that was fractured, sparking with magical discharge, and still had Thresh's pulverized remains smeared on it. "Nothing very important," he shrugged.

"You can say _that_ again!" Mordekaiser hollered from where he'd fallen off the Fountain's turret. He was climbing out of the crater that was the result of his fall and heavy weight when everyone was teleported out of the Rift.

The other champions grumbled about the cancellation while Thresh regained his bearings. He spotted the Card Master in the waiting room once he was oriented and pointed an accusing finger at him, "Stupid human, I hope you get punished for this insult to my dignity!"

"What are you blathering about _this_ time?" Mordekaiser sounded more bad-tempered than usual as a result of what had just taken place. "It's against the rules for anyone _but_ Twisted Fate to remove the hat from his person. _You're_ the one who will be punished," he seemed to be considering dishing out a bit of punishment himself for what Thresh did.

"Yep, he's right," Teemo quipped, having heard the conversation with his sharp yordle ears. "They put that one in _way_ before you even joined, didn't you read it?"

Thresh gave a nervous chuckle and fiddled with his lantern. "I skimmed them..." in truth, Thresh had not bothered at all with reading the rules and had been finding out what they were the _hard_ way ever since he joined the League.

"Yep, _nobody_ touches the hat," Twisted Fate smirked, then flipped the hat off his head and back on with a flourish, pretending not to notice how Hecarim flinched when it was lifted off his head. His face abruptly became serious as he locked eyes with Thresh, "So seriously, _don't touch it_."

In the end, Thresh was put on probation and given a heavy fine for touching Twisted Fate's hat. Hecarim had to see a psychiatrist after the match but still ended up suffering from waking night terrors, and Mordekaiser maintained his bad mood for over a week. Teemo was given a medal for his bravery in putting a stop to Twisted Fate's rampage, and Twisted Fate himself spent the rest of the day sleeping, as such explosions of violent emotion always made him extremely tired afterward.

As his saying goes: "_Nobody_ touches the hat."


	2. The Shadow of Love(by Viper of Grand)

**The Shadow of Love**

_I am Hecarim. I am the Shadow of War. The thunder of my hooves drive even the bravest of men to gibbering insanity as I approach. My glaive bisects man and rider, beast and monster, I bring death everywhere I go. I am Hecarim, I am the reaper of battlefields._

_At least, that is who I was, then, I met her. The only one who could possibly match me, the only one who understood the death that accompanies with war, the only one who could stand up to me, to the personification of death itself, and make me cow._

Hundreds of thundering hooves ripped through the air. Hecarim tore through the Ionian forest, his glaive tearing down any obstacle in his path. Whether it was forestry, animal, drunk men dragging fruit wagons, it mattered not. He could taste it in the air. A battlefield was nearby, no...All of Ionia exuded this aura.

Hecarim charged aimlessly through the forest, his soulless eyes lighting up with azure flames as he grew more and more excited. Every step he took on the ground, memories would spring. Acid killed this man in this spot. A spear impaled this woman's heart, but in her final breath she bit and tore out her killer's throat. Here, children picked up flowers and happily danced away into the sunset. Nothing bad happened.

Hecarim raised a plated eyebrow. He muttered aloud, "Odd."

The undead centaur focused his attention back to the gathering of memories, the excitement behind the war that happened here. Within minutes he started to fast approach the Placidium. The moment his hooves stepped off the road, he reared back and let out a bellow of surprise.

The memories here flooded to him. The soldiers here were butchered mercilessly and with the utmost efficiency. He watched as a sword, though it resembled a butterfly in flight, tore men in half, dismembered dozens of others who tried raising their weapons. He saw the flurry of fists strike at armor, crunching metal and collapsing ribcages. They all belonged to...a little...girl? A young girl, with dead, emerald eyes. Hecarim trotted about the field, watching the young girl decimate and butcher an entire cohort of Noxian soldiers. Another patch of ground showed her fighting a Zaunite wartank, her heaving a vermillion blade at the cockpit and instantly splitting the man's head open. It had passed through the seemingly impenetrable armor of the vehicle without any form of resistance, as though it did not exist.

"Hecarim."

The centaur looked at the source of the voice, lost in the memories of the field about him.

"What in the Hells are you doing here?"

His flame filled eyes seemingly blinked as he focused on who was regarding him. A man and woman stood side by side. They looked fairly similar, the man was slightly taller than the woman, they both had long, black hair, they both had emerald eyes, but while the man wore some green and black clothing, the woman wore crimson armor. The man had a curved blade sheathed while the woman had...that weapon. That sword, it resembled a butterfly.

The man coughed and looked at the woman, "Irie, you sure this is a good idea?"

"He's just a jerk. He's not going to do anything, or else he's deal with me." The woman glared at the centaur. "What are you doing here, in Ionia, destroying my home?"

_Irelia. That was the little girl. That is whose soulless eyes shone with bloodlust, who understood the idea of war. No pain, no pleasure, just kill. And kill. And __**kill**__. Has she changed? She seemed different on the Fields of Justice._

"Sooo...Should we get going?"

Hecarim tilted his head, his glaive held tightly in hand.

"Give me a minute, Zelos, I need to-"

"_**Are you important to her?**_" Hecarim growled at Zelos.

The man raised an eyebrow. "...Yes?"

The glaive impaled his stomach, and Hecarim swung him up into the air.

"Gaaah ha haaa! Freaking...! Why is it always impalement? Whyyy?!"

Hecarim pumped the glaive up and down, making Zelos' body bounce. He stared at Irelia, who seemed to be in some sort of shock.

"_**What will you do now, Ioni-**_"

Hecarim did not get a chance to finish his sentence. His own glaive twisted and contorted itself into a 140 degree angle, letting Zelos slide off the blade. This was followed by his weapon attempting to stab at the centaur while the man rolled away, grabbing his stomach. "Why is it always impalement...why?"

Irelia stepped forward, her sword now split apart into four distinct blades, crackling with vermillion energy. Hecarim looked over at her, locking eyes with her. Soulless, emerald eyes stared back at him.

"_**...Magnificent...**_"

His legs were sliced out from under him, making him topple like a crippled pony. He ate a mouthful of dirt as his face crashed onto the ground. Hecarim slammed his glaive downwards, the sound of the chilling cavalry howling and racing towards Irelia. On the Fields, everyone was made terrified of impending death. The snort of horses, the bellows of centaurs from a bygone era now raced at Irelia.

Their screams filled the air as blades made of vermillion energy lashed out and decapitated the spirits. She stood her ground.

Hecarim looked up in awe, the woman closed the distance and held her blade in front of his face.

"The only reason you are not dead is because you are a League champion." Irelia's eyes narrowed, her tone commanding but lacking any sense of emotion save for raw, unending hatred. "Pick your *DANG* up and get the *FUNK* out of my country."

Hecarim's legs rematerialized from underneath him as he stood up at his full height, easily towering over the woman. The two glared at one another, she did not relent. She was not scared of him.

"_**...What is your name?**_"

"You know it, dumbass. We fight on the Fields."

"_**No. I want to hear you say your name. Say your name.**_"

Irelia rolled her eyes. "It's Irelia. Now go away, I need to make sure Zelos doesn't bleed to death."

"_**Irelia...**_"

"Oh gods damn it, I think I see my kidney! No...no wait, that's just a rock that's stuck in my stab wound."

Hecarim turned around and galloped away, a strange blue tint on his cheeks.

*CLIP CLOP CLIP CLOP*

Hecarim peeked around the corner with a box in hand. He wrapped it using the finest Noxian flesh he could find, hoping it would be an apt present for her. He watched as she drank her tea and ate her food with some...goat lady.

'_Stupid goat lady, go away._'

"Irelia...I think...is that Hecarim...?"

"Yeap."

"...Why?"

"He hasn't left me alone since he visited Ionia. I don't know why, it's really creepy."

Hecarim stroked the metal plates on his chin. '_She is playing hard to get, like any true woman worth her salt. I remember the art of seduction almost as well as I remember the art of war.' _He pumped his fist into the air, glaive in hand as he thought to himself, '_She will whisper my name! Again and again! I am Hecarim! Hecarim! Hecarim! Yes, yes, yes! You can do this! You can do this! You! Can! Do! This!_'

Then he saw that man from before approach Irelia's back as quiet as death. Zelos, she called him. What is he doing? Hecarim tightened his grip, what does that man think he's doing, sneaking behind her? Does she not see him?

'_Perhaps she trusts him, and he's going to betray her! No, no...that's paranoid. That makes no sen-_'

Zelos covered Irelia's eyes with his hands, growling, "Gotcha!"

Irelia let out a soft, playful shriek and patted Zelos' hands, "Who is this monster?"

'_Monster? Kill monster?_'

"I'm a zombie, and I'mma eat your brains," he laughed.

*GALLOP GALLOP*

Then Zelos found himself suspended in the air, impaled through his side as Hecarim ran him through. "_**Do not fear, Irelia, I will vanquish this ruffian!**_"

"AAGHLCHK!" Zelos flailed his arms about as Hecarim bowled customers, waiters, tables, small dogs over. "Whyyy?!"

"Hecarim!" Irelia shouted. "The hell?!"

Hecarim looked back at her, suspending Zelos in the air. "_**...He admitted that he was going to devour your sacrosanct cranium. This cannot be allowed. Is there a problem?**_"

"He's my brother you idiot! He's not going to eat my brains!" She threw her hands up and pointed at the centaur, her tone depicting her absolute rage at Hecarim. "Leave him alone already you crazy ass pony!"

Hecarim stared at Zelos who was wiggling at the end of the glaive. "_**...So you're her brother?**_"

"Yes! I am! This should hurt so much more than it does! Gah!"

"_**You're not trying to eat her brains?**_"

"Not trying to...The hell are you smoking? No!"

Hecarim heaved Zelos off his glaive and stared at Irelia. "_**...Theoretically, if I offered you the brains of your enemy, would you consider going to first b-**_"

A swift uppercut cracked Hecarim's jaw, sending him flying into the distant landscape. Irelia watched him become a sparkle in the clouds. She palmed her face and looked over at Zelos, "You okay, Zelly?"

"I think...he has my liver...and he also left this." Zelos pointed at a box wrapped in flesh. "...Yeah, I'm not touching this with a forty foot pole. Soraka, can you drag my crippled ass to the medical ward? Thank you."

Irelia sighed and poked the box with her blade. It unfolded open, and she stared at its contents with a puzzled expression.

As Hecarim sailed through the sky, watching the birds, and Anivia, and Corki, go by, he thought to himself, '_Step one: Kill all enemies. Step two: Teddy bears and poetry. Rinse and repeat until successful, then advance to step three._' He smiled broadly. '_All according to my sexy plan._'

Inside the box, a very, very scared, very traumatized Teemo was tied up and quaking in absolute fear. The skinned, bloodied fur of a bear was messily taped and glued onto him with a card that bore a heart drawn in blood. The card read,

"_Let us slaughter the infidels, my Irelia, and love._  
_As for all the rumors of those stern geriatrics,_  
_Let us cut their hearts out and dance in their entrails_  
_Suns may set and yet rise again, but_  
_Us, with our brief light, can set but once, and then live in eternal undeath._  
_One never-ending night of continual slaughter must be kept then slept and then kept some more._  
_Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred hugs._  
_Then, another thousand hugs, and a second hundred kisses._  
_Then, if you feel up for it, yet another thousand, and a hundred of your choice._  
_When we have counted up many thousands, no, hundreds of thousands_  
_Let us kill everyone who ever counted the numbers, so that no one may know the number,_  
_And those who are somehow still alive die from jealousy when they see_  
_How many kisses and hugs we shared._"

Irelia stared at the poem, then at Teemo, who whispered aloud, "He...he recited it...six hundred, and sixty six times...to me...He made me correct the prose..." The Yordle let out a sob, "It's awful...So awful..."

"...Alright then." Irelia put the card back, slowly walked away from the box and took off in a sprint. She was later found trying to scrub her eyes clean with steel wool and hydrochloric acid.

_Her name is Irelia. _

_I am Hecarim, the Shadow of War to all but to her. To her, I am Hecarim, the Shadow of Love._

* * *

__Also make sure you go check out Viper of Grand's other stuff, it's really good.


	3. The Reluctant Minion 1(Viper of Grand)

**The Reluctant Minion - A Minion is Found (By Viper of Grand)  
**

"DEFEAT!" cried the announcer in a booming voice.

"Defeat? Again?" Syndra's eyes went wide with rage, her teeth started to grind against one another. "No! I cannot lose! I don't do _lose_! Only losers lose!"

Nidalee let out a loud sigh rubbed her eyes furiously. This child irked her so very, very much. Every League match in her high pitched voice she talks about how great and mighty and powerful she is, blah blah blah, a legion couldn't stop me, I'm power without limit, woopty flippity doo.

The feral woman clapped Syndra's shoulder and growled in her ear, "Hey, here's a thought: Maybe you're a loser."

"Wh...?" Syndra spun out of Nidalee's grip and hissed at her. "No I'm not! You're the one that-"

"That secured the top lane, nibbled on Shen's bicep multiple times, escaped Lee Sin's ambushes repeatedly, and destroyed their tower in less than ten minutes. You, however...sorta sucked and died. A lot."

"Me?!" she screeched. "It was my dumb summoner's fault! He doesn't know how to control my power!"

"Mhm...it could also be that you just suck," Nidalee purred back. "Besides, this loss means I have time to go hunting for some real food."

Syndra rolled her eyes and snorted. "Ugh, just go to the League cafeteria like a _normal_ person."

"Or!" The feral woman snapped her fingers and snarled at Syndra, "I can go hunting with my friends and family, and enjoy my life, unlike you."

The Sovereign's eyes narrowed, her hands balled up into fists. "What. Are you. Talking about?"

"I'm saying you're the sad kid in the corner that really, no one cares about. At all. Do you realize that you have less friends than Twitch?"

"I have minions!"

"Veigar has more than ya, sweetie pie, and minions doesn't mean friends."

"That rodent doesn't have any friends!"

A squeaky voice spoke up, followed by an awful, pungent aroma. "Actually, I'm gonna go play cards with Zac after this. We're gamblin' high stakes this time: Ten years aged cheddar."

Syndra stared at Twitch, not quite sure how to react.

"What are you doing after this, Syndra?"

"Uh...S-stuff..." she stuttered. "Yeah, important stuff! Nothing a peon like you needs to know!"

"She's going to go to her sad corner," Nidalee mockingly whispered to Twitch.

"Shut up! I've got friends!"

"Name one."

Syndra looked at Nidalee, then at Twitch, then looked around her for the rest of her teammates. A blue light surrounded them, and they were brought back into the lobby. Both teams were there, from Lee Sin to Master Yi, there was that scruffy Graves guy there, and Taric...Taric!

That weirdo is friends with everyone!

Syndra canceled her levitation and started to strut over to the gem knight. Before he saw her, before she could utter a word, a loaded crossbow was held in front of her face.

"No."

Syndra did not get a chance to ask what Vayne meant. The witch hunter simply reiterated herself, "No."

"But-"

"No."

"I just-"

"No."

"Will y-"

Vayne reached up and twanged the crossbow's string, making the bolt shudder from the tautness.

"I just wanna talk to him!"

"Last time you did you broke every bone in his hand."

Syndra stamped her foot on the ground. "It's not my fault he was going for the last slice of cake! I mean come on, I saw it first!"

Taric had finally made his way over and lightly clasped Vayne's shoulder, making the witch hunter lower her weapon. He spoke to Syndra in his usual, calm tone. "I would have given you the last slice, if only you had asked. Despite how sharp Obsidian can be, she only has the best intentions for my safety. And I ask you to respect her wishes."

"...But..."

"For your safety, more than mine. Perhaps if you applied a carnelian on your brow, and a few well-cut turquoise gems, then we can have healthier communication."

Syndra tilted her head, her eyes showing that she was indeed, confused. "...That sounds really dumb."

Taric let out a sigh, forced a smile and patted Vayne's shoulder. The two left without saying a word more.

"Wow. You're truly, truly, _truly_, amazing," Nidalee snickered aloud.

Syndra crossed her arms and snorted with indignation. "Whatever. He sucks."

"Uh huh."

"I don't need friends, I need minions. I need people to respect me, there's no one who I can call my 'equal.'"

Nidalee rolled her eyes and waved the Sovereign off. "Whatever. Buh-bye."

"Huh?" Syndra looked back, giving the feral woman the stink eye. "Where are you going?"

"Friends, hanging out, slaughtering a fat moose and then eating it, followed by napping, the usual," Nidalee said while walking away. "It`s funny, how a feral person, like me, can really go to any city-state and find at least one person I can probably befriend while the civilized snooty one, like you is...well, you."

Syndra watched each champion disappear from the room, each talking about plans they had, and every time they looked at her, they gave her a weird look. Except the monk, he was blind, hard for him to look. Hah! A clever joke, she made. If only she...had someone to tell.

Everyone left the lobby, leaving Syndra completely alone. Even Twitch left chatting about his ultimate plan in poker, something about how he will sink Zac's battleships with his aces...Is that how you played poker?

What was poker anyways? She never heard of it while under her master's tutelage.

Syndra crossed her arms, and walked over to the corner. Everyone else just sucked. They all didn't realize how great she was. They didn't realize how awesome she was. Ignorance is bliss, the stupid find happiness easier than a great _genius_ like her would. She knew better than them.

Yet, after only a minute, she burst into loud, annoying tears.

Outside the lobby, Malcolm Graves was making his way back in. He left behind his flask after Taric asked him for a swig of it. Something about helping him calm his nerves because of some sort of proposal? Some nonsense, wasn't sure what his business was but hey, guy was polite and did well in the match, so why not? He grumbled aloud as he pushed the door open, "Good job Malcolm, fergettin' t-"

Then he heard the wail. He grabbed the nearest table, flipped it over and yelled, "Prison break lads! The explosion's gone off! Move move move! I'll catch up t'the rest o'ya!"

Graves checked his gun, the loud siren still going off, and rolled into firing position at the source of the wailing.

Syndra had mucus running down from her nose, tears the size of marbles rolling down her face.

"What in th'...?"

"Go away!" she yelled in a distraught tone.

Unfortunately for Graves, her yell literally made him fly across the floor, and the table he had used for cover shatter into several large pieces of lumber.

'_Ooooh bugger. Alright, think yer way, Malcolm, think yer way. Y'can't shoot her, she can crush ya like a grape, and...she's cryin'. How do you make a woman stop cryin'?_'

"Uh...stop crying?"

This only made Syndra wail louder, he could swear that his eardrums would explode at any moment.

'_Okay, new plan!_'

"Please, stop cryin'?"

'_You just tried that! Come on brain, help me out here. What do women like? ...Stop that. Use yer upper brain, moron. Look, what do I got on me?_'

Graves quickly started to pat at his pockets, not sure how much more torture he could take.

"Will you shaddup already?!" he bellowed.

Syndra instantly fell quiet, blinking and sniffling.

'_Huh. That worked. Nice going brain. Yer welcome, now check yer pockets._'

Graves moved one hand to his pockets, rummaging through them as he walked over to Syndra. Buckshot, gunpowder, more buckshot; that particularly hilarious, and oh so black-mailable, picture that Veigar drew, but otherwise nothing useful in those set of pockets.

'_Alright, now make sure she doesn't start cryin' again._'

"So why were you tryin' to flood the room?"

'_The hell are you thinking?!_'

Syndra took a hard sniff, the sound of mucus being sucked in a loud and fairly unladylike noise. Oh gods no, don't start again.

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that, I uh..."

'_Check yer damn pockets! I did! Check yer other ones!_'

Graves' hand started to smack at any and all pockets he had wildly. Come on, come on, something, something, then he heard the crinkle of paper. It wasn't the drawing, what could it...The chocolate bar.

'_Oh come on! Do y'know how expensive this thing is?! It's five gold a pop! Look man, this ain't about yer damn chocolate anymore. Just lookit her._'

Graves squinted his eyes, Syndra's lips were quivering and readying to emit yet another series of ear-splitting cries.

'_Five gold versus keepin' yer blood in yer head. Do you really hafta think about this? ...Seriously, you are? Just give her the chocolate, stupid! But it's- Shut up and do it!_'

"Geez, fine brain," he grumbled aloud. Graves reached into his pocket while he closed the distance between him and Syndra, drew out the chocolate bar that had read, "_Snake's Kiss, Cassiopeia's Only Choice in Chocolate_," and knelt down in front of her.

"Now listen, girlie. I'm gonna give you this," he said in a gruff tone. "On the condition, on the _lone_ condition that y'stop cryin'. Alright?"

Syndra sniffled and mumbled out a few incoherent words.

Graves sighed and reached into his back pocket. He drew out a handkerchief and held it out to her along with the chocolate bar. "Clean yerself up, blow yer nose, keep the hankie and eat the dang chocolate, alright?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she sniffled.

'_Cause I like my insides where they are and I ain't in the mood to give the lobby a fresh coat of red._'

"Cause...Reasons." Graves drummed his knee, waiting for Syndra to take the items from him.

Eventually, she took the handkerchief from him, and loudly blew her nose into it. She wiped the sides of her face with the clean edges of the fabric and then stared at the chocolate bar. "...Are these offerings?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, paying half attention, trying his best not to notice that he could see up her skirt way too easily. For a moment, he thought that he should ask why was a Sovereign wearing the world's shortest skirt, which was followed by his brain mentally slapping him. "Yer done cryin'?"

Syndra gave him a slow nod and opened the chocolate's wrapping. She started to nibble on it while Graves stood up and started to scan the room. Eventually, his eyes fell on his flask that was somehow still intact.

"Don't you have people to see?"

"Hrn?" Graves pocketed his flask and glanced at Syndra. "What was that?"

"Aren't you going to go with other peons, '_friends_', and do whatever you commoners do?"

Graves shook his head, "Naw. I ain't got 'friends', just a goal, little lady. And 'sides, y'dont need friends t'hang out with people. Sometimes people just like another mouth to spout nonsense and another pair of fists to brawl with." He gave her a quick wave of his hand before walking away.

'_Alright, maybe you should say something to make sure she won't start crying again. Just seal the deal._'

"By th'way, you weren't half bad in the match. Later."

Syndra's eyes lit up. She smiled, and looked at the chocolate bar. "Hee hee...I have a minion."

She shot up from her position and started to levitate once more. She easily caught up to Graves while asking, "Well, if you don't have anything to do, then maybe you can do something for me?"

'_Say no. Say no. Say no. Say. No._'

"Not really, no," Graves replied, not looking at her.

"I'm hungry."

"That's wonderful. Go do somethin' about it."

"Make me a sandwich?"

Graves stopped mid-step. "Say what?"

'_No seriously, what'd she say?_'

"Make me a sandwich?"

_'Heh. She actually did say that. Bwahahaha! Wait, no, don't laugh, she can still crush yer coin purse like-'_

"Bwahahaha! Ha! Ha ha!"

A loud metallic crunch rang out. Alcohol started to dampen his pants, or at least, he hoped it was alcohol. He could feel his flask twist and contort into an unrecognizable shape.

"Minion. Make me a sandwich."

Graves stared at Syndra, an indignant expression on her face, her eyes humming with magical energy.

'_Welp, you heard the lady. Make her a sandwich._'

He let out a sigh and growled, "Just this once, alright? Don't expect this every time."

"Yay!" Syndra clapped her hands together excitedly and grabbed Graves's arm. She started to pull him as she rattled off how she wanted her sandwich prepared. "I want the crusts cut off, the bread cut into bite sized triangles, no baloney, no cucumber, I want five types of cheese but no stinky cheese, and no white cheese, and I like turkey but not smoked turkey, but I don't really want any turkey this time and I also like salami but only the fresh kind and-"

'_Just keep remindin' yerself, Malcolm, just this once. Just this once. Just this once._'

And so, ends the first of many stories of our reluctant minion.

'_Wait, hold on a second. Lemme read that last sentence up there. 'First of many'...WHAT?!_'

You heard me, Graves.

'_You scum licking rat sonova-_'

Next time on '_The Reluctant Minion_' - Graves doesn't want to see the dinosaurs.

'_What kind of dumb sentence is-_'

"And tomorrow, I wanna go see the dinosaurs! I've never seen dinosaurs before!"

'_...Hate you. I hate you. And her. I hate both of you. So much._'


End file.
